


assurance of things unseen

by AslansCompass



Category: X Men: Days of Future Past
Genre: Gen, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23822683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/AslansCompass
Summary: Hope is not a thing with feathers in the soul. It is sharp as swords, heavy as lead, and as necessary as air. Character explorations for Days of Future Past.
Kudos: 3





	1. helpless

Yelling, spinning, storm clouds, voices, so many voices....helppleasefindmeohgodnostophimmorehelpandhewalkedawaytodayinthenewsandon....

Charles ripped the helmet off his head, nearly collapsing from the whiplash. The power had gone out, leaving the room dark and cold. Hank went to check the generators, leaving him alone with Logan.

"It's not the machines, is it?"

"I can't do this, my mind...."

"Yes, you can. You're just a little rusty." 

No, he doesn't understand. It's not about the machinery, it never was. Cerebro doesn't create telepathic abilities. Anyone else could sit in that chair, wear that helmet, strain till they were blue in the face, without so much as a blip on the screen. It just enhances what is already there. 

And nothing multiplied is still nothing.

"You don't understand, it's not a question of being rusty. I can flip the switches, I can turn the knobs, but my power comes from here," Charles tapped his head. "It comes from..." he waved his hand over his chest. "And it's broken. I felt like one of my students, helpless." Except he doesn't have any students, does he? Not anymore. Those bright, brief days when the house was full of life and laughter--and then the war. Another pointless, stupid war. " It was a mistake coming down here. It was a mistake freeing Erik. This whole thing has been one bloody mistake!" 

"You're right. I am."

The quiet admission took Charles by surprise. He paused in the doorway.

"Actually it was supposed to be you. But I was the only one who could physically make the trip."

Physically? How did that even work? Was there another Logan somewhere, one who had only lived 1973 once? Two identical men, separated by fifty years that hadn't happened yet? _You're asking questions again,_ part of him observed clinically. 

"And uh...I don't know how long I've got here, but I do know that a long time...actually, a long time from now, I was your most helpless student."

Helpless? The man could dead-lift a car, stab a coke bottle barehanded.

 _There are other forms of helplessness_ , the detached portion reminded him.

"You unlocked my mind. You showed me what I was, you showed me what I could be. I don't know how to do that for you. You're right, I don't. But I know someone who might." He leaned forward. "Look into my mind."

"You saw what I did to Cerebro. You don't want me inside your head." He didn't even want to be in his own head, much less deal with the cacophony of others' minds. 

"There's no damage you can do that hasn't already been done, trust me." 

Charles inhaled softly. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought, plunging into Logan's mind. 

Memories washed him away, an unrestrained torrent. 

> Strapped to a bed, injected, experimented on, over and over again.

He hated this man. Had hated him since the moment he walked through the door, all his attitude and swagger and judgment. But now--seeing this, knowing this....Charles can't hate him any more. He's not a coddled prize-fighter; that's only his disguise, a mental serum to hide a monster. "Oh you poor, poor man."

> Rescue. A red-haired woman, smiling, teaching--then a wasteland, a plea for death--

"Look past me." 

How can he be so calm? "No, I don't want your suffering, I don't want your future!" Mutants tortured, enslaved, killed; human sympathizers rounded up into camps, a remnant on the run....

"Look past my future. Look for yours. That's it... that's it."  
  



	2. compassion

_Charles._

He couldn't remember the last time someone had said his name like that. Such tenderness, such warmth.... such concern. Like a parent. But his parents had never been the tender type. His friends cared, but there was a deference, a slight discomfort in caregiving, even in the smallest things. He was supposed to be the strong one, the leader, trustworthy and dependable. Even with Raven, he was (had been) the authority, the big brother....

So who was this man, telepathic voice smooth as glass, polished and focused? Most minds are chaotic, barely-herded cats or electric storms. This mind is tidy, yet complex, an infinite puzzle box of possibilities.

_Charles._

Oh. Of course. 

Charles, he replied, greeting and introduction in one word. 

The other man--his older self's--the _Professor's_ \--memories filled his mind in an instant, all the decades yet to come. The overarching flow of history and the irrelevant details; elections and wars and the taste of red velvet cake on a friend's birthday. 

And the current situation. Fleeing Sentinels, trapped in an ancient temple. "So this is what becomes of us? Erik was right. Humanity does this to us."

_Not if we show them a better path._

We. How can he say we? There is no we. If what Logan says is true--and it is, he no longer has the slightest doubt of that--then this person, this timeline, this future--will never have happened. There will not be a 'we' to show anyone anything. No. It is just 'you.' Just himself. Alone. 

"You still believe?" Because it's not just Eric, or Raven, or this new threat, Trask. It's not just mutants and humans at war. It's Americans and Soviets, white and black, rich and poor. All the thousand petty cruelties man inflicts on man, for no real reason. He's read their minds. Even the ones who don't act still think it. The ones who protest it most, deep down, still think 'if i had the opportunity...."'

_Just because someone stumbles, loses their way, it doesn't mean they're lost forever. Sometimes we all need a little help._

"Oh, I'm not the man I was. I open my mind and it almost overwhelms me." Even thinking of it--mentioning it--brings the terror back. 

_You're afraid, and Cerebro knows it._

The gentle words somehow hurt more than any harsh judgment. "All those voices, so much pain." His voice cracked at the end. 

_It's not their pain you're afraid of, it's yours, Charles._

How could he know? How could anyone--but of course, he's talking to himself, he always was. It's just that he can't picture this future--any future--for himself. It's been so long since he even tried, since he dared to look further ahead then the next day, the next dose, the next meal. What possible path could lead him to advocacy again?

_And as frightening as it may be, that pain will make you stronger._

How? Physical pain, perhaps. He knows enough anatomy to know muscles and ligaments, body-building through brute force. But emotional pain--grief, loss, despair--how does one move on from that? 

_If you allow yourself to feel it, embrace it, it will make you more powerful than you ever imagined. It's the greatest gift we have, to bear their pain without breaking, and it's born from the most human power:_

_**Hope.** _

The professor abandoned words. The conversation broadened into a full-blown flashback, a memory of no particular day, an ordinary day, like dozens before and hundreds after. The mansion full of students, even more than he'd had before. Autumn sunlight in busy hallways, students laughing and chatting about homework, crushes , weekend plans. Telepathic contact with _all_ of them, even if no more than a glancing touch, a bone-deep reminder of safety and trust. Home. 

The home he'd never truly had as a child, but the one he'd always dreamed of. Countless brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, mutants and humans alike, working to change the world. 

This was what he'd dreamed of with the X-Men, what he'd hoped they could become. Darwin, Angel, Scott, Raven, Hank, Sean.....

_Please. Charles, we need you to hope again._

It could still happen.


	3. dear younger me: professor

"Charles?" 

_Charles._

He'd spent so long planning for this day. If he'd been the one to go back, rather than Logan--if he'd been able to withstand the journey--but Logan had found a way around his limitations. He'd have to thank Logan for that, if he ever got the chance. If this actually worked. 

_So this is what becomes of us? Erik was right. Humanity does this to us._

He had been so young. Young, but bitter. Those days had been so dark; echoes in empty corridors. "Not if we show them a better path." So many choices had been made in fear and ignorance, racing down the wrong path for fear of monsters coming behind. 

_You still believe?_

Yes. "Just because someone stumbles, loses their way, it doesn't mean they're lost forever." Not the blind faith of a fanatic. Nor the untested optimism of ignorance. "Sometimes we all need a little help." And now, through Kitty's gift and Logan's ingenuity, Charles could help the people he'd failed most. 

_Oh, I'm not the man I was. I open my mind and it almost overwhelms me._

"You're afraid, and Cerebro knows it." He hadn't known it then. Had refused to admit it, more accurately. But if you can't confess to yourself....

 _All those voices, so much pain._ The voice cracked on the last word. 

"It's not their pain you're afraid of, it's yours, Charles." The pain in his legs had been his constant companion for sixty years now. Painkillers were rare these days. But that wasn't the pain either of them meant.

The ache of empty days. The loneliness of lost friends. Regret and helplessness, rage and despair. "And as frightening as it may be, that pain will make you stronger." No, it doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't erase the emotions. It refines them, like gold in a furnace. "If you allow yourself to feel it, embrace it, it will make you more powerful than you ever imagined. It's the greatest gift we have, to bear their pain without breaking, and it's born from the most human power: Hope. "

"Please. Charles, we need you to hope again."


	4. monologue

_The future, a dark, desolate world._

Angry, infected brands on foreheads, marked like cattle. Led like lambs to the slaughter. Mounds of corpses, trucked out to the pits and dumped like so much rubbish. He understands Eric better now. The ceaseless horror, eternal despair, worse than any nightmare--is it any wonder the man went mad?

_A world of war, suffering, loss on both sides._

Mutants weren't the only ones who lost. There were no winners in this war. All this chaos, all this fear....it was a world for the machines now. Monsters that not even the famed Magneto could control.

_Mutants, and the humans who dared to help them, fighting an enemy we cannot defeat._

_Are we destined down this path?_

Destiny. He used to think it meant something grand, something heroic, something worthy of remembrance. In the end, it was just a trap. Inescapable, like a magnet pointing north. 

_Destined to destroy ourselves like so many species before us?_

_Or can we evolve fast enough to change ourselves, change our fate?_

If only... if only... oh, if only. The two most important words left in the universe. 

If only things could be changed. 

_Is the future truly_ set _?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon the voice at the beginning of the film as Professor X speaking to his younger self.


End file.
